Defending What is Right
by jankmusic
Summary: Molly Hooper isn't having a good day, but her control doesn't unravel until someone throws homophobic slurs at a crime scene.—Part of the One-a-Day Challenge


Defending What is Right

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock.

Prompt: Rainbows

WARNING: **There is a brief mention of suicide in this story**.

* * *

Molly Hooper was not having a good day.

Her day started off with an irritated consulting detective texting her because she wasn't working that day. It progressively got worse as she found Toby sick and making awful noises at her front door. What she was hoping to be a quick trip to the veterinarian's office turned into a two hour long ordeal, and she left with her cat getting prepped for surgery.

Things weren't looking good.

Then she bumped into a man on the tube and he spilt hot coffee all over her, cursing at her for not watching where she was going. Luckily a pedestrian stood up for her, because Molly was sure that she was just moments away from a breakdown.

She returned to her flat in time to wash up and change her clothes before she was bombarded with texts from Sherlock Holmes.

Evidently, he desperately needed her at a crime scene.

All she wanted was one day off to cuddle with her cat and read books and possibly watch a film or two.

Now she had a very ill kitty going in for surgery and a consulting detective demanding her attention.

She sent him a text. _'Be there in a mo.—Molly xx'_

Running to a crime scene wasn't her idea of fun, but she wanted to avoid the tube at all costs and she didn't want to spend the money on a taxi, especially if she was going to take one later to get Toby.

Slightly out of breath and pink cheeked, Molly skidded to a halt in front of crime scene tape, clutching her large striped bag to her side. She smiled tentatively at Sally Donovan who happened to be standing on the other side of the tape, texting on her phone. "Hi Sally. Sherlock said he needed me?"

Donovan looked up and smiled briefly. Molly and Sally Donovan were in no way best friends, but the two got along well enough. "Thank God. Even Sherlock can't figure this out. Greg is refusing to move the body until we know what killed him." She lifted the tape and Molly ducked under, going in the direction that she pointed her to. It only took a few seconds to see Sherlock towering over John as he knelt beside a body.

Molly slowly stepped closer to the crime scene. She could see now that John was kneeling over a completely naked male, and by her rough estimation, he was between twenty and twenty-five. He hardly looked old enough to be out of college.

"Hello," Molly said, stopping on the other side of John.

"Hey Molly," John said, looking up at her.

Molly could feel Sherlock's gaze on her, and she looked at him. His eyes were narrowed and he was looking at her, and she already knew he was deducing her morning. She braced herself for an insulting deduction, but all she got was, "I hope you were not burnt by the coffee."

Startled, she just shook her head. "No. I'm fine. Not this bloke though." She looked back at the body, and she immediately began cataloging his appearance.

"He's been dead for three hours. What do you see?"

Molly knelt down, until she was resting on her knees beside the body. From the corner of her eye, she saw a pair of latex gloves thrust in her vision. She took them and smiled at DI Lestrade as he took a step back from her and the body.

"Male, early twenties, probably in uni—"

"We know that! Cause of death!" Sherlock snapped. Molly winced, but she ignored it. When Sherlock was on a case, sometimes he could be harsher than usual. But she knew he meant well, and she knew she would receive an apology, however lame, by the end of the case. Sherlock was getting better at behaving in a more humane manner.

"Can you tell me anything about him prior to his death? Why is he naked?"

John spoke up this time. "Witnesses said he was running around, screaming and complaining of his heart racing and being thirsty. They thought he was just some nutter and no one called 999, and then he had some kind of seizure and died. I've never seen anything like this before."

Molly nodded her head and looked at the young man again. "If he was complaining about thirst and an elevated heart rate, and it wasn't a hallucination…" she trailed off, and then her eyes widened. "He has a rash, see? It's all along his chest and neck. And look at his cheeks. He could have been flushed before he died, but that would have went away by now. He still has pink cheeks! How odd."

"What?" and "Have you seen this before?" were what John and Sherlock asked at the same time.

"Without doing a toxicology screening, I can't be sure, but it looks like he was poisoned with belladonna. I've seen this three times before, cold cases from when I first started moved to London."

"You are brilliant, Molly Hooper!" Sherlock exclaimed, pulling his phone out of his pocket and searching energetically.

Molly spared one more glance at the body, knowing she would inevitably be seeing his body later that day in the morgue. She was expecting Sherlock to demand she go to Bart's and do the autopsy so he wouldn't have to work with anyone else. "Help me up, will you?" John asked, holding his hand outstretched in Sherlock's direction.

Sherlock reached for John's hand and pulled him up, not letting go of his hand as he was engrossed in his phone. Molly couldn't help but giggle as she stood up on her own and watched John shake his hand and grumble beneath his breath.

"Bloody fucking hell! You can put away your rainbow flag any minute now, fucking fairies."

Sherlock dropped John's hand immediately, and Molly felt her blood run cold as she turned to a young officer who was chuckling to himself. Before Sherlock could begin spewing deductions about the officer, Molly cried out,

"That's not funny!"

Everyone seemed to freeze, and all eyes snapped to Molly, but she stared at the officer, her hands balled tightly into fists. The normal din of a crime scene was nonexistent when she took a few steps towards the man who hurtled the insults at her friends. "I had a cousin who was teased when she was really young because she liked girls. And the kids in her class teased and teased her. It only got worse once she started wearing a little rainbow pendant, and she never took it off because she was proud of who she was and who she was representing and she had every right to be! But the teasing turned to bullying which turned into tormenting, and she took her life when she was only seventeen years old.

"Because of people like you, she never had the chance to realize that it got better, that the world isn't full of sodding idiots." She took a deep shuddering breath and plowed on. "So don't you dare make fun of rainbows or homosexuals or anyone in that community, understand? You're doing a whole lot of people in the world a disservice by saying such awful things!"

She was breathing heavily by the end of her speech, and was met with complete silence for a few moments. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder, and before she could stop herself, she wrenched her shoulder away and ducked her head down, rushing away from the crime scene.

She could hardly breathe by the time she managed to get half a block away. Then she crouched down, her legs shaking too much to run anymore and she covered her face.

She was only alone for a few moments before she felt a hand on her back, rubbing in soothing circles, "Hey, hey, it's alright." She peeked through her fingers to see Lestrade and Sherlock in front of her and what she only assumed was John standing behind her. "I've had to defend my sister quite a few times in my lifetime."

"Sorry," she said in response, trying to slow her heart and regain control of her rapidly approaching emotions. "A bit not good for a crime scene, I know. B-but I've just had a bit of a day and—" Sobs tore from her throat, she couldn't help it.

All was quiet except for the sobbing woman in the middle of a busy sidewalk in London, and then John very gently helped her to her feet. "I've got you, Molly." Molly moved with John as he shuffled them towards an alley. Molly spared one last glance over her shoulder to see Lestrade heading back to the crime scene, and Sherlock staring right at her. Eye contact lasted just a few seconds before he turned and followed the DI back to the scene.

And Molly just cried harder.

* * *

"_Doctor Hooper, we have good news! Toby came out of surgery and pulled through the night. Please call me back so we can discuss his follow up treatment and his release back into your care."_

"Oh thank God!" Molly breathed, resting her head in her hands. The day was shaping out to be much better than the day before. She blushed at remembering her reaction to the heinous insults thrown in Sherlock and John's direction, which were a culmination of her day and the memories of her cousin. And John Watson had been such a sweetheart, holding her until she had composed herself, taking her for a cuppa, and then walking her home. And by dinner time, Mary Watson was on her doorstep with wine, takeaway containers, and a dozen films.

"I take it Toby is doing well?"

Molly jumped and then swiveled around in her chair to stare at Sherlock. He was standing in her doorway, hands in his Belstaff coat pockets. After a beat of silence, Molly nodded her head. "He pulled through his surgery."

"Good." Sherlock strode the rest of the way into her office and perched on the edge of her desk. Molly turned so she could see him. "I am sorry about your cousin," he said haltingly, glancing at her and offering a small smile.

"It's alright," she said quickly. "I'd rather not talk about it."

"I understand."

She knew he was trying, so she smiled at him and patted his knee. "What can I do for you?"

He exhaled and shifted his weight. "I just wanted to see you—to ensure that you were alright. And I brought you this." He pulled out a bar of chocolate from his pocket and slid it across her desk until it reached her mobile phone. "I did some research and—well—it's chocolate."

She couldn't help the giggle that escaped and she felt the blush spread across her cheeks. "Thank you, Sherlock."

They were quiet, and it wasn't awkward. Then Sherlock stood up again. "I'm sure a coffee would go well with your chocolate bar." He pointed his thumb over his shoulder at her door. "You still have forty-five minutes left of your lunch."

"Are you asking me to leave St. Bart's for a cuppa?"

"I am."

"As in a date?"

She giggled again when his nose scrunched up. "I believe I am."

Molly stood up from her seat, her mobile phone and chocolate bar in hand. "Lead the way, Mr. Holmes." She said, following him out of her office and locking the door behind her.

_Today is definitely shaping up to be better than yesterday._

_Fin._

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BB/N: Thank you for reading, reviewing, and or adding this story to your favorites! :)

If you're feeling up to it, you should definitely try the one-a-day (or 3-a-day if you're feeling AWESOME) challenge! It's actually a really cathartic experience, and I've enjoyed every second of it!


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